2013.10.14 - Evil Gribbly Things
Confused? Read: 2013.10.10 - Batty Asgardian Troll Fruit The interior of Bloodstone Curios is even more chaotic and disorganised than usual. A large battered travelling trunk takes up almost the entirety of one cramped aisle, flung open, trailing scabbards, necklaces and assorted paraphernalia like the intestines of a wounded beast. Elsa Bloodstone is at the centre of the clutter, hefting an enormous four bore double rifle and staring down its old but well maintained barrels as she holds it skywards. "Alrighty. If you're cheeky enough to have rock for skin, let's see how you fare against this beastie." A tiny part of her mind perks up at this moment, reminding her that it might have been a good idea to check if the front door was locked and the sign turned to 'CLOSED'. She dismisses it with a mental shake. The bell on the door rings. It isn't closed. Such is the fate of magical shops. A single pair of footsteps--heavy boots, from the sound of it--walks in. They pause, take a few uncertain steps, and then begin walking down the index of the aisles. The creature making these ominous noises turns out to be a young woman in thick eyeliner and a beat up leather jacket. Oh, great, another goth kid looking for spooky decorations to fill the part where their personality should go. "Hey," she says, looking at the gun but saying nothing. "You work here? I'm looking for a guy named Ulysses Bloodstone. Does he own this place?" A few seconds before the doorbell rings, the trusty brass lamp, upended and in severe danger of falling on the floor, begins to glow with a diffuse light. Elsa shoots it a scowl. "If you keep this up, I'm going to take you to someone disgustingly magical and get you bloody recalibrated." Ding ding. "Or not." Elsa hurridly puts the antiquated portable cannon down, then hurries into the aisle the young woman is walking down, her hand closing on the grip of the magnum revolver tucked into a shoulder holster under her coat. *This is getting to be a habit,* she mulls quietly. She looks the new arrival up and down, not noticing horns, flames or any other obvious magical emanations and let's out a slightly frustrated breath as she takes in her appearance. "You're not the only one, love. I'm Elsa Bloodstone. Ulysses Bloodstone is...was my dad. It's complicated. Can I help you?" Elsa forces her hand to her side, relinquishing her grip on the pistol for now. "Was your dad?" the woman asks. She doesn't have horns, but her hands look dangerous. They're at her sides, fingers straight and slightly spread. This could mean nothing. It could also mean that she's a magic user and prepared to turn Elsa's tongue into a lump of hot coal. Elsa lets go of her pistol and the other woman relaxes her hands. Bets on magic user drop to 7:5. "I'm Amy," she says, then quickly moves on to the more important question: "I'm guessing you, um, know more than I do about what your dad did." Elsa's eyes narrow as she glances down at the newcomers fingers, before meeting the other woman's gaze. "Well, Amy, I suppose if you're being charitable about it he's technically missing in action. But we Bloodstone's don't usually get let off that easily." As Amy relaxes her fingers, Elsa folds her arms across her chest, a little defensively. "You know his name but you don't know what he did? Blimey, what are they teaching in magic school these days." It's a guess, though it's backed up by the brass heirlooms behaviour. "Ulysses Bloodstone. Ten thousand plus years of fighting the weird and the borderline unmentionable. Explorer, Vampire Hunter, smiter of evil gribbly things." *And a shitty parent,* Elsa adds silently. "You could say I've inherited the family business in all regards." Her head inclines to one side in thought. "Did someone send you in here for a laugh? Give you his name and aim you here?" Her expression becomes a little sympathetic. "Dude, I was trying to be nice and not presume things about your apparently dead dad," Amy says, hands on her hips. "I read about him." She closes that subject with a quick exhalation and a roll of her eyes. "Sorry. It's been a weird week. Month. Screw it, year. Look," Amy indicates the store and Elsa's hidden gun with a sweep of her hand. "Do you take monster hunting jobs? Are you as good as your dad? I have a really crazy one. If you think you can help, I'll pay." A smile actually breaks across Elsa's face, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I wouldn't worry about it, darling. Gallows humour is something of a necessity in my line of work. Comes with the territory. No need to apologise." As Amy continues, Elsa's smile widens and she actually breaks into an unladylike snort, which she hides behind a gloved hand. "I'm sorry, don't take it personally but you're talking to a Bloodstone. About weird." Elsa regains control of herself with an effort of will, her expression becoming serious. "I had my front door taken off my Asgardians a couple of weeks ago and I'm gearing up for a troll hunting expedition. I can sympathise with weird, believe me." A sparkle glints behind Elsa's eyes as Amy mentions monster hunting. "Ulysses Bloodstone was the greatest monster hunter that ever lived, darling. I'm pretty close to being as good as he ever was, with one noticeable difference." Elsa leans forward and lowers her voice conspiratorially, affecting a broad grin. "He couldn't do it in three inch stiletto's." As Elsa comes alive, it's Amy's turn to go on the defense. She crosses her arms. Wariness colors her otherwise carefully neutral face. Her gaze flicks down to Elsa's boots when prompted. Though she smiles when she looks back up, it's faint and still bemused. "That does sound pretty ridiculous. I almost broke my face the last time I wore heels." She extends one hand, palm up, making a quick gesture above it with the other. An illusory blue flame puffs into existence, flickering and writhing. "I'm..." Amy pauses, glances away, then back to the flame. "I'm a student of the Sorcerer Supreme. We're looking for the first Angel of Vengeance. The Floodbringer." The fire curls and splits, framing a sneering, tattooed face. "He's trapped in a shard of a black diamond called the Heart of Darkness. We have a lead on where it is, but we're not sure what we're going to run into when we try to recover it." Amy closes her hand, snuffing out the leering face. "I think you might be able to, um, advise us." Elsa follows Amys gaze down to her thigh high heeled boots. "Let's just say that's one of the skills daddy dearest didn't help me develop and leave it at that," she smirks. "Still, comes in handy if you need to stab something through the eye and you haven't got a hand free." Elsa is clearly talking from experience here. When the young magician extends a hand, the monster hunter can't help but flinch back a little, reflexively. Daddy Bloodstone didn't raise no fools, after all. As the blue flame bursts into existance, an answering flash comes from the rear of the shop, accompanied by a clang of brass hitting the floor. Elsa winces momentarily, before paying attention properly. Her eyes widen as Amy explains her situation. "Hang on, you've got Stephen Strange on speed dial and you're coming to me for advice? I don't know whether to be flattered or bloody horrified." Elsa's expression becomes thoughtful as Amy mentions the Floodbringer. "Stone me. You don't do things by halves, do you. I thought he was scattered throughout all the shards, not just trapped in one. Let me think for a minute." The monster hunter drums her fingers against the side of her jaw for a few moments. "You're talking about the living, well sort of, embodiment of Gods Wrath. I mean, God with a capital sodding G god. If you're lucky, he hasn't found a host body yet." Elsa lets out a breath. "Letting that slide for a moment, an artefact that bloody powerful is going to attract all kinds of attention. And don't think for one minute you're just going to get attention from the Underworld. Him upstairs is probably going to have a stake in this as well. I doubt they'll care who they step on if they're trying to secure it." Elsa's expression becomes one of curiosity. "Which begs the question. What are you going to do with it if you get your mitts on it?" The monster hunter crosses to one of the nearby bookshelves and starts rifling through the duty volumes there. Amy shrugs, an exaggerated motion to make it clear underneath her big jacket. She answers most of Elsa's commentary with a hapless grin. "Capital G God wasn't really interested," she says. "Or, he didn't seem interested." The angels seemed more into stabbing and choking, but maybe they were an outlier. "I don't think he'll have found a host, yet. What I--what happened to him means that he's stuck in that thing until the next properly aligned eclipse." The magical student, or whatever she is, shoves her hands into her pockets and nods her head at the shelves, where a brace of sharpened stakes are on display. "We're going to kill him. We think we've found a way to do it, permanently. It's the all kinds of attention that I think you can help with, um... is just Elsa cool?" "Just Elsa will do fine, dear," the monster hunter responds distractedly as she pulls a hefty tome from the bookshelf in a cloud of dust. How that cloud of dust got there in a few short weeks is a topic for debate another time. "Well, if He isn't interested, that makes your task merely highly improbable, as opposed to nigh impossible." Elsa's mouth quirks. "Hm. That's the gallows humour again, for reference." She nods appreciatively at the plan to permanently deal with the Floodbringer. "I like the sound of that," she says with an air of enthusiasm. She hands the enormous tome towards Amy. "Speaking of helping." The leather bound tome's title reads 'Treatise on the Nature of Daemones, by Johanne Valerious'. "Now, Johanne was an old windbag and his prose makes your sodding eyes bleed, but he had a knack for knowing the weaknesses of all kinds of demons and assorted hellbound unpleasantness. Just be a bit careful with that, it's a first edition." *Stone me I sound like a librarian,* Elsa curses inwardly. She then crosses to the blank wall opposite the reinforced door at the back of the shop and gives it a hefty blow with her knuckles. It slides to one side to reveal a wide array of weaponry and assorted monster fighting esoterica. Elsa grins as Amy eyes the show stakes on the walls. "So how are you for holy water, reliquaries...?" she says with a smirk. "I think we're doing pretty good, so far," Amy interjects, though without her earlier assertiveness. She follows Elsa to the bookshelf, standing a fair distance away to avoid the temporally (and then spatially) displaced dust. She takes the book gingerly in both hands, letting her arms dip to accommodate its surprising weight. Her expression can easily be read as 'goddamn another book, why is everyone such a librarian.' Still unsure of how best to carry her newest textbook, Amy follows Elsa. She's decided to just keep it in front of her in both hands. Her eyes widen at the arsenal. They're a shade of purple. "Wowww. Um. Does that work on fallen angels?" Amy shakes her head. "Here, wait a second." She carefully transfers the book to just one hand, shuffling over to Elsa while keeping it balanced. "I'm going to touch you on the forehead, don't freak out." She does, with her thumb. Nothing weird happens. "Alright. Sanctum Sanctorum. It's in Greenwich. You should be able to see it now. It's kind of this big old mansion looking building that doesn't fit in whatsoever." Elsa quietly notes Amys seeming displeasure with being handed the tome, remembering her own frustration at having musty books shoved at her on a regular basis. Well, paybacks a bitch. Or something. Elsa ponders Amys question as she eyeballs her personal stock of demon fighting weaponry. "That...is a bloody good question. I'm not actually sure. I bet it would if you drowned one in it, but good luck keeping his head down that long. And you'd have to carry a bucket everywhere. Never mind. Oh this one's a classic." She pulls out a device that looks like a drum fed grenade launcher. "Stake launcher. Blessed silver stakes." Elsa eyes Amy up and down looking a little guilty. "Something smaller?" she offers apologetically. Elsa is only half listening as the magic user touches her on the forehead with her thumb, the monster hunters eyes nearly going crosswise. "Hnnk. Yes. I don't know it looks kind of...well...nice?" In fact, it reminds Elsa of the real Bloodstone Estate, back in Boston. "So what do I do, throw stones at his nice big window if I want a cup of tea?" she asks with an air of mischief. The book has not spontaneously disintegrated, so Amy feels a little better about sticking it under one of her arms. "I've kind of got this warrior princess theme going, so I'll skip the guns." She adjusts her jacket, presently conscious of how well it hides her. She is pretty muscular under all that surplus leather, not that Elsa can see. "Well, I'll give you a call or something? Just knock, there's this guy that's pretty much always there. His name's Wong. He's not the butler, though. He'll know who you are." Amy shifts her weight again for the book's sake and then sticks out her hand. "Or ask for Amy. Look, thanks for helping with this. Like, you didn't even ask what I'm going to be paying you, so that's pretty cool." Elsa ponders Amy's words for a moment. "I'm a little light on swords at the moment I'm afraid. Though I might know someone who could fix that, if I asked really nicely. And offered to clean her horse. For a month." Elsa then nods. "No stone throwing. Got it. Well if he *doesn't* open the door then I'll know he's heard of me." The monster hunter looks approvingly at the young magic user as she holds out her hand. Elsa takes it in a gentle but firm grip. "You're welcome," she says with a smile. "As for the fee...well, anything you'd like to contribute to the rent on this place will be gratefully received. The crime rate is next to non-existent, but the bloody rent is slowly killing me. It's been a pleasure to meet you Amy. Please don't trip over anything pointy on the way out," Elsa says with a disarming grin. Amy's eyes inevitably slide to the shop wall that is closest to the Asgardian building elsewhere in the neighborhood. She does not comment. "Rent money? I can totally help with rent money," she says, finally grinning. Her handshake is less polished than Elsa's. "It's probably going to be in, like, gold and gems and stuff, though. You'll have to take care of the rest." She carefully picks her way over the merchandise turned hunting gear littering the floor, mindful of her literary burden. The student turns and waves before disappearing around the aisle. "Glad to meet you, too, Elsa!" The bell chimes again and the damned lamp finally stops glowing. Category:Log